by David Wilikofsky
The collaboration between Sharkula, the celebrated underground Chicago rapper, and Max Allison, the mind behind Mukqs, began after a chance encounter at a Burger King. After Allison traded a fish-fillet sandwich for a couple of Sharkula’s CDs, the two stayed in touch and began exchanging beats and verses. They previously collaborated on Prune City, an EP released by Allison’s label Hausu Mountain. I’ll admit I missed that release when it first dropped in 2019, but I won’t be sleeping on it’s follow up, Take Caution On The Beach. It’s rap as viewed through the looking glass, a weird and delightful look into the mind of Sharkula.
At first glance a rap album might feel like a strange fit for Hausu Mountain, a label largely known for its exploration of the outer realms of experimental music. But, as you might expect from the label, looks can be deceiving. This is due in part to Allison’s production, which plays it fast and loose with rap convention. Beats this adventurous are rarely seen outside a Danny Brown album. “I Paint Like A Painter” is largely built on ambient washes of sound, the pulsing beat nearly imperceptible below its surface. “Steam Room Sauna Holla” is centered around a gnarled, distorted riff and shards of synths, while “Chicago Bear Claw Jaw” is built out of squeaking and squelching squiggles of sound. They’re tracks that would probably puzzle the average rapper.
Luckily that isn’t Sharkula. His approach to writing is improvisatory; he recorded each track on the album as a single vocal take, and they feel less like constructed verses than stream of consciousness looks into his head. There are some subjects that pop up over and over again: bodily functions, vegan burgers, coronavirus. But by and large it’s unpredictable where he’s headed, and that’s the thrill of his style. At times he wields language as an instrument, distilling it down to pure sonic elements devoid of meaning, while at others his verses unfurl in a flurry of free association exercises, jumping rapidly from one thought to another. It’s unconventional to be sure, but it sounds completely at home in this alien landscape.
One of the beautiful things about Sharkula’s off the cuff approach to writing is that you get a picture of him as a person. There are struggles: the grind of making and selling music, the harsh realities of living through a pandemic. But there’s also a sense of unbridled positivity that pervades the album. Whether he’s talking about the value of life (“Life is fulfilling / Why would you want to commit suicide / Think about the good qualities in life / Think about eating / Think about the five senses you’ve got“) or just describing himself (“I treat people how I want to be treated“) there’s a kindness and decency behind each word.
“Keep doin’ what you’re doing / I’m dunking like Patrick Ewing” are Sharkula’s parting words, and they couldn’t be more fitting. Inspirational and nonsensical, it’s a fitting ending to an album that’s equal parts of each.